


Your Unrelenting Spark

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: MAMA Powers AR [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Reality - MAMA Powers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun doesn't remember what fully-rested feels like. Scenes from the end of 2013/awards season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Unrelenting Spark

Jongin smashes his fingers during a bad teleport right before awards season is set to begin. He chalks it up to carelessness and Jaewon doesn't even think to ask—it's so common to jam fingers against the practice room floor that nobody bats an eyelash when someone shows up with two fingers taped together.

Baekhyun knows it's more than that, though. Exhaustion's been stretching their powers thin, like brittling elastic. Yixing's so worn out these days he only manages to set one of Jongin's fingers before the spark in his hands fizzles out and goes cold.

"Sorry," he says, looking embarrassed. "I'll try again in a few hours, Jongin—let me get something to eat."

"It's okay." Jongin smiles. "I'm fine. This isn't a big deal. I've broken fingers before, hyung."

November's been bitterly cold this year, though, and Jongin's broken that finger enough times that it's reluctant to heal on its own. It bothers him enough at night to come padding into Baekhyun's room with some lame excuse about Chanyeol snoring.

"What do you think I'm going to be able to do for you?" Baekhyun asks, but he folds his arms around Jongin anyway and pulls him towards the center of the mattress. Jongin blinks at him, sleepy and slow, eyes dark and intense even as he's drifting off. Baekhyun holds Jongin's cold hand against his cheek. Jongin mutters something about being hungry again and then he's asleep, wheezing softly into Baekhyun's ear. 

 

The MMA's afterparty is a big one. Jonghyun's still wailing through the toasts and Taemin has to coax him into letting go of his fourth glass of champagne, rubbing his back until he slumps against Taemin's shoulder and sobs something about _I just love you guys so much_. He's not even that drunk—just overwhelmed, but everyone's worried about what might happen if he loses control of his powers again. His hospital scandal had blown the entire company wide open (an unfortunate pun, but truly the only way to describe the media frenzy).

Jongin sits sandwiched between Taemin and Baekhyun, hiccuping into his beer until Baekhyun steals it and pours the lukewarm pint down his throat in one decisive swallow. Blearily, Jongin peers up at Baekhyun, too wrecked to be mad—instead, he inches his hand across Baekhyun's thigh to squeeze hard and leans in, letting himself be brave for just a moment as he presses his lips against Baekhyun's cheek. In the next instant he's turned away, chatting with Taemin, but Baekhyun's skin burns where Jongin's mouth had been, which is how he knows he didn't imagine the whole thing.

 

They take the MAMAs afterparty back to the hotel. Baekhyun notices Jongin is missing somewhere around the third round of room service and goes wandering until he finds him sitting on a bench in the hotel lobby, cap pulled low over his eyes. It's just after three in the morning.

He looks up when Baekhyun plops down next to him. He's got makeup creased in the laugh lines of his face, smudges of kohl and mascara rimming his eyes from his crying jag onstage earlier—he looks more like a raccoon than a boy.

"How's Kyungsoo?" Jongin asks. "Did Yixing—"

"He did his best." Baekhyun scuffs his slipper against the marble floor. "Kyungsoo's sleeping now. We'll see how it goes in the morning."

Jongin curls into Baekhyun's side and leans into his shoulder with a heavy sigh, eyelids sinking. "Can you believe tonight?" His voice is shot from crying, splitting and frayed and half an octave below where it usually sits.

"No," Baekhyun murmurs, voice quavering. Jongin clutches at his fingers and squeezes. "Don't," Baekhyun warns. "Don't start again."

Too late. Jongin's eyes are already shining. "I saw you, hyung," he says softly. "On stage."

Baekhyun feels a familiar stinging itch at the back of his throat and swallows hard. "You saw nothing, you big crybaby."

Jongin chuckles. "I won't tell."

Jongin's hair smells like sweat and hairspray and the sour tang of a still-fresh dye job. Baekhyun buries his nose in it anyway and breathes in. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed," he says. "Are you staying down here?"

"Mmm. No."

"Come on," Baekhyun says. "They're all in Kris's room, anyway."

Jongin leans on Baekhyun in the elevator, hands splayed at the small of Baekhyun's back to hold himself steady with the swaying ascent. Baekhyun picks a few stray feathers from Jongin's hair and hums to himself as the number on the dial climbs, bits of Stevie Wonder tunes that have been looping in his head for the past few hours. The lights in the elevator flicker and he can't tell if the electricity's down or if he's just having an episode.

Jongin doesn't seem to notice. He trails obediently behind Baekhyun past the muffled ruckus behind Kris's door, all the way to the room at the end of the hall. Baekhyun fumbles for his keycard and pushes Jongin inside first, muscles him up against the door without bothering with the light switch. His lips linger on the warm, fluttering pulse in Jongin's neck and Jongin sighs loudly. His chest dissolves, then materializes again. It's been an overwhelming night for everyone, Baekhyun thinks, tugging at the elastic of Jongin's basketball shorts. The lights in the room hum brown, then fade away.

Baekhyun hauls Jongin by the shirt collar over to the bed and crawls over top of him, breathing hard. Jongin stares up at him and just smiles, lazily, like he's waking up from a particularly good dream.

"Hey." Something strikes Baekhyun and he sits back on his heels, pushing his desire down for a moment. "Let me show you something."

Jongin makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat and Baekhyun pushes a closed fist under his nose.

"Look."

"What am I looking at, hyung? It's dark in here—"

Baekhyun opens his palm and the room glows gold, then blue, then pink. Jongin leans closer and gasps—the ball of light in Baekhyun's hand, perfectly formed, every color in the rainbow, like a bubble of dish soap or the surface of a puddle spiked with gasoline. When he wriggles his hand, the light follows it.

Jongin laughs, delighted, and reaches out to touch it. Baekhyun pulls his hand away and leaves it suspended, a few centimeters from Jongin's hand. "So cool," he breathes. "This is what you've been doing?"

"Just wanted to know if I could." Baekhyun shrugs and pushes the light right into Jongin's chest. It explodes and spreads out, like the juice from an over-ripe berry. The light soaks into the fabric of his shirt and dwindles away. Jongin pulls Baekhyun back against him, eyes startled wide, and nuzzles at his face.

Kissing Jongin is a lot like going home for Baekhyun: easy, comfortable. No pressure. Jongin's never in a hurry for what's next, lies there content to balance Baekhyun on his chest until Baekhyun's impatience gets the best of him.

Baekhyun strips him down carefully, reverent hands tracing the lines of Jongin's muscles, down his back, his thighs. Jongin keens a little bit when Baekhyun's fingertips graze the underside of his cock, flushed and hard against his belly, but it's not enough for relief.

"Hey," he seethes, hand groping blindly until it settles on Baekhyun's erection. Baekhyun grins.

"Yeah? Can I help you?"

Jongin twists his wrist a few times, thumb and forefinger wrapped neatly around Baekhyun's dick. "Come on," he whines. "Me too. It's late."

Baekhyun pretends to mull it over for a second before he relents, chuckling into Jongin's collarbone. He pushes Jongin's knees further apart until he can slot his own leg in between, pulling their groins flush. Jongin moans and pushes his hips up, desperately for friction, searching for contact. Baekhyun finally gives it to him after a show of licking his palm, pumps his hand slow and steady until Jongin's crying for the third or fourth time that night, teeth sunk into the pale skin of Baekhyun's shoulder. Baekhyun puts his hand over Jongin's, then—uses both of their hands to drag himself to release, hissing Jongin's name through his teeth. Jongin sees an explosion of light in Baekhyun's eyes and wants to ask but Baekhyun drapes himself over Jongin, come cooling between their bodies, and drops another kiss on Jongin's wet cheek.

The deep freeze of the hotel air conditioning clicks on. Jongin rolls over, digs at the bedside table for a moment before he locates the box of crappy one-ply tissues behind the telephone. He mops at his stomach with a tissue for a moment before Baekhyun rolls his eyes and pulls the sheets over both of them. "Leave it," he says.

"That's really gross, hyung," Jongin says.

"Only if you think about it," Baekhyun sighs into Jongin's chest. They can worry about the mess (and the sleeping arrangements) later. The wake-up call for the airport'll come long before either of them are ready to wake up, but they'll take what they can get.

**Author's Note:**

> part of my holiday advent ficlet series 2013. written for boozeandyogurt@lj and posted for dec 23rd.


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